The white light of the courtroom fell like a punishment on Viktoria Vasiliev. There were no open windows or expensive perfumes to mask the stench of truth. For the first time, the woman who had always controlled everyone with a cool smile and elegant speech was completely alone.
She wore an impeccable black suit, but her composure was no longer that of an untouchable goddess. The fall had not been sudden; it had been slow, like a crack that cuts through marble and corrodes it from within.
The prosecutor listed her crimes in a neutral voice, but each word was a hammer:
-Diversion of public funds. Threats. Extortion. Complicity in disappearances. Influence peddling.
The room was full. Politicians who once praised her now looked down on her. Former associates pretended not to know her. Her name, which once opened doors, now sealed them like a curse.
Ana was present. Hidden in the audience, with a scarf covering part of her face. Not out of fear, but out of self-respect. She did not want to celebrate Viktoria's downfall as a personal revenge. She wanted to understand.
And she understood.
Because Viktoria didn't fight back.
She did not cry. She didn't beg. She just listened. And when it was her turn to speak, she stood up, without hesitation, and raised her voice.
-For years I believed that weakness was the greatest shame a woman could show. I became what I was taught I was supposed to be: strong, smart, relentless. I was told that was power. That compassion was a luxury for the poor in spirit. And I... obeyed.
The judge watched her without interrupting.
-I do not justify what I did. I do not deny it. But I want to make it clear that I was not born a monster. I was turned into one.
A heavy silence fell over the courtroom.
-My family taught me that mistakes are buried. That love is weakness. That if you don't control, you will be controlled. That was my childhood. That was my home.
For an instant, her voice cracked. Just a little. Just a thread.
-And now, I've lost everything. For fear of losing everything.
The verdict came quickly. Viktoria would be condemned. The weight of her crimes could not be ignored. Her name would be stained in the books. Her face would become a symbol of a corruption that could no longer be hidden.
As she was escorted out of the courtroom, her eyes met Anne's.
There was no hatred. There was no rage.
Just a broken woman who, for the first time, accepted the price of what she had sown.
And in that instant, Ana understood something:
Sometimes, the punishment is not the cell, not the loss, not the humiliation.
Sometimes, the real judgment... is to look in the mirror and know who you became in order to survive.